Fucking hell, that was a good pen.
I put my feet up on the railing for a second, wondering if I should just jump over the damn thing. End it once and for all. Be done putting myself through the pain I feel every single day.
Is this how it'll be for the rest of my life?
I don't doubt it, honestly. But maybe this is how it's supposed to be. Maybe I am an old soul, like Luna told me a long time ago. Maybe I was a bad person, and this is my penance for the sins I've committed. In this life and the last.
It doesn't matter, anyway.
Luna is my heart and soul. If she's out there somewhere, then I'll be here. My heart will be wide open, bleeding at my feet. My body will ache, my mind won't be right, but if she's out there, then I'll be here.
I'll fucking wait. And if I'm waiting forever, well, at least I tried.
"Dude, you okay?" Lonnie side-eyes me backstage.
I haven't been able to sleep. Not since that dream. I've tried, trust me, I've tried, but I just can't. It might have something to do with the lines of coke I've done. My body feels electrocuted, and everything around me is shaking, or maybe it's just me.
Yeah, I'm fucking shaking.
"I'm good."
"Dude, you don't look good. You look like you're seizing." He's about to reach out and touch me, but I step away from him.
"Don't touch me right now, Lon. I'm not in the fucking mood."
"He's never in the mood. Rome is a shit lately." Clyde walks in, a beer in his hands. When he notices me, he stops, his eyes going wide. "What's wrong with you?"
"I'm fucking fine!" I roar.
He points his beer at me. "You aren't fine. And you have coke on the tip of your nose." His eyebrow lifts.
I narrow my eyes, my fingers lifting to my nose, and he’s right, the side of my pointer comes away with white grains streaked across the skin. "Fuck off."
I push off the wall, walking toward my chair, but the world is moving in slow motion, and I'm walking too fast.
I run straight into something, and looking down, I see it's my guitar case laying on the ground.
"Dude! Watch what you're doing!" Lonnie shouts at me.
I flip him off, walking around my guitar case and falling into my chair. The world spins, and I turn the chair so I'm facing the mirror. My eyes are red, my hair is sticking up in all directions, even though it was just done by hair and makeup.
I see a baggie of coke on the table, a line already missing. I pour out another, slicing up a thick line. We're due to be on in ten, and I don't usually take this much before a show.
But after my dream last night, fuck it.Fuck it so hard.
"Dude, you've had enough," Clyde says, walking up to me.
I ignore him, cutting my line into perfection. The white powder is like snow, making everything painful in my life go away. Not fully, not even for a long time, but it dulls the ache, and fuck, if it even dulls the slightest bit, I'll take it.
"Dude." Clyde walks up to me, pulling my chair back. I jump out of my seat, pushing my chair toward him. It groans against the floor. He stumbles, nearly falling to the ground. He rights himself at the last second, glaring at me, his dark eyes alit with fury.
"Fuck. Off," I growl. Bending down, I take my last line, plugging my nose as the burn hits and the head rush flushes through my head, spreading down my body.
I twitch. Twitch again.
Fuck. Yes.
"Let's go," I say once I open my eyes.